Drip, drip… drip, drip.
Little sounds everywhere
all a suddy you're aware
of creaks and cranks throughout the night
of bumps that wake you up in fright
a skitter on the floorboard starts
a mental theatre, in two parts:
Act One houses moonlight through
the open window, there’s a clue!
but still you're in a placid sleep
dreaming of a lake so deep
fish swimming slowly down below
to fathoms where the strange things grow…
and then from blackness comes a shape
your dreaming mouth does drop and gape
a tentacle of brilliant hue,
of fleshy pink and mouldy blue!
comes winding upwards through the dark
it grabs your foot, and with a start –
up you sit in bed – the shock!
the frame like a canoe does rock
as though you're travelling on the tide
your foot (you check) is safe inside
you breathe anew and look around
you're safe at home, so lie back down
and slowly once again you go
into the moonlit shadows, lo!
"Behold Act Two!", Luna cries
while she lounges in the sky
a champion of eerie sport
this nightmare watchman loves her work
touching eyelids closed and calm
you've welcomed her, in all her charm
until you feel a hint of fear
for you don't really know her, dear.
She finds her way beneath your eyes
and side-long by your dream she flies
until you're moving head-to-head
you turn and notice what you dread
she's changed the course on which you fly
The Place of Plenty passes by
she leads you into craggy hills
where darkness clings to rock and tree
the sounds, the scents
instead come shadows, wraiths of fear
they circle round you, faceless, cold
this isn't where you want to be.
They wrap you up just like a fly
wriggles in a web to die
and all the while she gazes down
an ancient rock with gleaming crown
this is, for her, a nightly feast
she preys on dreamers in their peace
'That's it!' you cry, with raspy voice,
'dreamers dream, this is my choice!'
Luna looks on with a frown
you're free to go, you've won this round
you breaststroke upward to the sky
watching whisps of cloud pass by
the shadows fade, and light flows in
your body rests on pillows white
a breeze is rippling on your skin
but cloud-made quilts, they wrap you tight
you sigh a sigh of sheer relief
you conquered Luna's Land of Grief!
your eyelids open slow to see
moonbeams on the old gum tree.